


One Last Time

by lyricallity



Category: Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Death, Gen, Germany, Hetalia, Italy, Prussia - Freeform, hetalia AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 12:46:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricallity/pseuds/lyricallity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is from my deviantart page, Meetra-Scarlette, and my first post on ao3.</p></blockquote>





	One Last Time

The huddled forms, herded like cattle into trains and shipped away from home. The sobs of devastated mothers as their children are killed. The fearful and pained wails of farewell of the babies thrown in the fire. The sickly stench of charred flesh and ashes. The metallic taste of blood, and the burn of bile rising in the back of the throat. The snap of a breaking neck as it collides with the tightened noose. Creaking-boned twigs of bodies with barely the muscle to move. The silent, body-wracking gasps of the hopeless run out of tears. Silent pleas to the heavens for an end to the pain; a way out of the genocide. 

The Holocaust. 

Of course, we all know that after Hitler's suicide, and the end of World War II, the Allied Powers swooped in to free and assist the captive Jews. 

But, suppose Hitler didn't kill himself. Suppose that, when he did finally pass away, he was succeeded by a string of similar dictators. That the Holocaust went on, still unknown to the rest of the globe. That World War II had never ended. 

Germany would be at his wits' end. He would have so many things to be angry, and stressed, about. He would snap a few times here and there, and his bosses would be right beside him; to calm him; to reign him in; to indoctrinate him. 

Their explanations would, of course, make logical sense; and everyone knows how much sense matters to Germany. Their reassurances and promises would seem so good. Almost too good. Only almost, though. Besides, when at one's limit, one rarely considers consequence thoroughly. 

And it would be so, in this war-ravaged world, that Ludwig Beilschmidt, personification of Germany, would harden his heart, inside and out, and purge himself of any possible weakness. 

Including ties to any nation that would get in the way of his newly found lust for blood and power. 

~~~~~~~~~

The air exploded with sound, and time seemed to freeze as Ludwig pulled the trigger. Feliciano Vargas widened his eyes, filled with confusion and horror, and his slender hands flew to the river of blood that began to flow from the hole in his chest. 

"Luddy...." the Italian whispered, trembling knees caving. "Wh-why?"

The silence was deafening, dragging on as the bleeding, crying Italian and coldly smirking German locked eyes. 

"Why, you ask?" Ludwig slowly began, voice dripping with ice as though he was speaking to a pariah rather than his best friend. "Simple; because you were a weakness to me. And I cannot afford to be weak; I cannot afford to have you and your antics weighing me down. Not anymore."

Feliciano shook his head fiercely, tears streaming down his pale cheeks. "N-no! No. You're not weak, Luddy. You never have been-" he choked on his sobs, coughs wracking his thin frame. "You've always been kind on the inside. That's your strength."

A low, dark chuckle slowly bubbled its way eerily past the blonde's stern lips, and his blue eyes sparked with insanity. "Nein. That man, the Ludwig you knew, was weak, pathetic. That man is gone."

By this time Feliciano's sobs had died down to wheezy panting, and he lay curled on the ground, shivering. He pressed his arms against himself in a futile endeavor to staunch the growth of the blood pooling around him. 

"No. I....I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe that the Ludwig Beilschmidt I call a friend is gone. I refuse. He's in there somewhere. I-" Feliciano stopped and turned his head to cough flecks of crimson into the grass next to him. He tried to sit up to meet the eyes of the German and prove his point, but his arms were too weak. So, he remained in the ground, steadily growing weaker as the rain began to fall. "I...know he's in there....somewhere..." he continued. "And...and when he comes back...h-he should know one thing..."

Another coughing fit burst forth from the Italian's now feeble frame, a trail of blood running down the corner of his mouth as he met Ludwig's gaze blearily. His voice had gone soft, barely audible; but there was a fierceness and sense of urgency to it, as though he would not let himself perish until his final piece had been spoken. "I...I want him...to know...I'm not mad...not at him...this....isn't his...fault..." One last tear slipped through Feliciano's lashes as his mouth curled into a wry smile. "Goodbye, Luddy...."

And Ludwig stood, face set in an emotionless line, as the last light of life left his former friend's eyes forever. 

~~~~~~~~~

Gilbert Beilschmidt was on a walk when a sound he knew only too well reached his ears. 

Gunfire. 

The albino slowed his pace, and cocked his head to the side, listening. All was silent, save for the breeze rustling through the surrounding trees. 

_Ludwig must be practicing again. Maybe the awesome me will join him, kesesese._ he thought to himself. But he could smell the moisture on the air, it was so thick, and a troop of vehemently darkening clouds was gathered overhead. _On second thought, the awesome me doesn't really want to be unawesomely soaked by the storm...._

Making up his mind, Gilbert continued on his way back home until an unexpected scent hit his nose. 

_Is that......blood?_ He sniffed again, tuning out the rain, and smelled it still. Concern shot through his heart. It's wasn't hunting season, so there was no safe explanation for the smell, as far as he could come up with. He couldn't get the worry out of his head that someone was after his younger brother. It wouldn't have been surprising if it were true; there had been a slight lull in warfare lately, but the tensions and hatred were still there and stronger than ever. 

And with that last thought, he sped his pace to a sprint and headed towards the source. 

~~~~~~~~

Ludwig heard a twig snap behind him, and immediately swiveled, shooting into the brush. Nothing there.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

"You're just getting jumpy, Ludwig. Paranoid," he told himself quietly. "Just clean up the body and get back inside."

~~~~~~~~

Gilbert could see the edge of a pool of red as he came to the border between the woods and the clearing.

_Mein Gott....I'm too late...._ But, as he moved closer, whatever he saw made the blood drain from his already pale face. 

Feliciano's corpse. 

_Oh, no....not Feli...poor Feli....how am I ever going to break it to Ludwig?_

His question was answered as he heard the second gunshot, and Ludwig talking to himself. Slowly, he stepped out, ignoring the fear and nausea that knotted itself in the pit of his stomach. 

"Br-bruder?"

Ludwig turned to see the disbelieving albino standing there, and grunted. "What?"

"You killed Feliciano." It was more a statement than a question. 

The blonde shrugged. "He was in my way, and I got bored. It's not a big deal, don't look so upset about it."

"Don't look so- WHAT THE HELL?!? This isn't you, bruder! What's going on?"

Another grunt. "What's going on? I can finally see the truth, that's what. He was slowing me down. Everyone is slowing me down."

"From what? Money, power? Because mein little bruder has never cared about that." Gilbert was furious now. Furious, and unawesomely scared. This war had been tearing apart the world for decades, and now it had shattered his little Luddy. 

"Give me the gun." Gilbert's voice was low, a warning. 

"What?"

"Give. Me. The. Gun," he repeated slowly. 

"Nein. Why would I do that?"

"Because this isn't you, verdammt!!" Tears sprang into his crimson eyes, and for once he made no move to wipe them away. "You're only going to keep killing people until you have no opposition left."

"And what's so wrong with that? 'Survival of the fittest,' as they say."

At that, Gilbert lunged, growling, and twisted Ludwig's wrist to try and get the gun from him. But Ludwig was ready for it, and fought back fiercely. 

"Give me the gun!"

"Nein!"

"Drop it!"

"Nein, bruder! You don't understand!"

"For the last time, will you give me the damn-"

_BANG!_

The gun went off, someone's finger pulling the trigger during the scuffle.

The two brothers froze and stared down at the smoking barrel, before the Prussian slowly collapsed. 

Gilbert Beilschmidt was dead. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Ludwig's fingers trembled, and the gun fell from his grasp to land next to his fallen sibling. He shook his head, tears streaming down his face. His eyes had lost their cold, murderous edge, and he seemed to revert back to his normal self.

"Nein....nein....NO!!" He fell to his knees and cradled Gilbert's body in his arms. "Bruder...I am so sorry...Gott, what have I done? How could I...Feliciano....and my own brother....."

He was absolutely disgusted with himself. He could feel something turn over in his stomach, and his mouth had dried out. He shook with grief. 

"How....how can anyone ever forgive me for this? How can I forgive myself? How can I possibly live knowing I've murdered the only two people I care about?"

Seeing a glint in the corner of his eye, Ludwig turned and looked at the discarded gun. It was muddy, but oh so tempting. With shaking hands, he laid Gilbert down and took hold of the gun, one last time. 

He closed his eyes, one last time. 

The air exploded with sound, and time seemed to freeze as Ludwig pulled the trigger...

One last time.

**Author's Note:**

> This is from my deviantart page, Meetra-Scarlette, and my first post on ao3.


End file.
